Harry Potter and the American Sisters
by Delphine Pryde
Summary: Harry has never had a family, but now thanks to a couple of American witches he has that chance. Gives a different take on the books! R&R, please! Ch.6 up and is more original than the others!
1. Weirdness Abounds

Disclaimers: Okay, listen up cause I'm only going to do this once! I don't own Harry Potter or the characters. The other people belong to themselves. I'm not getting paid to write this (though donated reviews are always appreciated) and currently I'm in financial debt with my mother after I bought the Ranma ½ box set of season one.

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter One: Weirdness Abounds

By Delphine

Jennifer

"Time to get up," my mother said, pulling me out of my dream-like state.

"Alright," I mummered, sitting up. I got out of my bed, not even bothering to glance at the clock. I knew it was eleven o'clock. You see it was a Saturday, which means I get to sleep in, but Mom never lets me stay asleep past eleven, it ruins my sleeping pattern or something.

As soon as she was satisfied that I wasn't going back to sleep, my mom left the room, probably to go wake up my little sister Chelsey. Yawning, I made my way over to my painted white dresser and pulled out my clothes for today: blue flares and a light blue shirt that had a depiction of a baby angel with a crescent moon in the background. While I changed out of the violet nightgown I couldn't help bout feel I was missing something. Something was out of place, but what? With this feeling of uncertainty I headed over to where my stereo rested upon a black coffee table. Behind the stereo was a hung up mirror. I grabbed my hairbrush and started to run it through my gold mane, fighting out my thousand and one tangles. Finally, when my brush could run through my hair without a snag I glanced at my reflection in order to make any corrections on the style and stopped.

A child, no older than eleven stared back at me. Thinking I might perhaps be hallucinating it I rubbed my eyes and looked again. My familiar blue eyes stared back from that oh so young face. This just wasn't possible; I was seventeen not eleven! I pinched myself in my panic and was rewarded with a sharp pain. It seems that it wasn't a dream. "Oh, boy."

In amazement I stared at myself, studying the appearance of this younger me. My hair, I noticed, was a lot lighter in color, there wasn't as much brown mixed into the gold. My face was smooth, instead of covered in pimples. I apparently hadn't gotten to that wonderful part of puberty. If I remember correctly, eleven was the age I first started wearing a bra. I would estimate that I was 5'4" tall, only a couple of inches from my final height. I suppose I should be grateful I hit my growth spurt early, otherwise I would have to adjust to being greatly smaller. The greatest difference I noticed and the one that most pleased me was that I no longer needed glasses to see clearly. I had to wonder a little about this for I had been wearing glasses since I was nine, but this elven-year-old me didn't.

A scream snapped me out of my thoughts. "Chelsey," I muttered before running into the room next to mine.

My sister, a few years younger than her true thirteen, was sitting on her bed as she stared with shock at her bedroom mirror. I called her name five times before her blue eyes moved to capture mine. Short, dusty blond hair framed her small face. "Jennifer?" she asked in a hesitant voice.

"Yeah, it's me," I confirmed, noticing my voice was now more lyrical and higher.

"H-how?" Her young eyes implored me to explain this sudden fountain of youth trick to her.

I sighed. "I don't know," I admitted.

Silence reigned for a minute or two before Chelsey began to speak again. "I-I don't think its just us being younger. Mom was in here earlier and she didn't once notice how little I was."

"This is like an episode of the 'Twilight Zone,'" I commented, as I processed this new information.

"Yeah."

"Well then!" I said in a happier voice, pulling Chelsey to her feet. "Get dressed and we'll go investigate this matter."

"Alright," my sister said, a small smile alighting upon her face.

So I waited outside her door as she changed out of her pale blue pajamas. When she came out she was dressed in black pants, a sparkling silver shirt, and a black sweater-coat. "So what now?" she asked.

"Now we go to see Mom."

Our mother wasn't that hard to find. She was in front of the computer; doing her finances. As soon as she entered the kitchen we were assaulted by the meows of our cats. The biggest (and fattest) was my black and gray tabby Astrid. The other was white and brown calico that belonged to Chelsey by the name of Luna. Stumbling over the furballs I went to the pantry and pulled out some cat food, which I used to fill up their bowl. As soon as food touched the Tupperware the felines were scrambling to get to the food. I put up the bag of cat food and shut the pantry door. My mother was looking at me with a frown on her face. "Your cat bit me," she told me, disgruntled, "again."

"She just wanted you to pay attention to her," I explained.

"She's your cat, you're suppose to take care of her," she muttered.

I had to hold back a grin. My mom wasn't too happy about having pets in the house. The only reason she even agreed was because she knew how distraught Chelsey and I were over the death of our beloved Cocker Spaniel dog, Lex. We'd tried to breed her and she had miscarried. I remember that I had woken up that morning for school and had walked into the kitchen for breakfast. Lex laid in the corner of the kitchen on top of my old blanket that had been given to me by my grandmother. Her breaths had come out in shallow gasps. My mother and father were standing by her. There were tears on Mom's face. "She's dying," my mother had cried. Then…I don't want to remember the rest, it hurts too much.

Chelsey tugged at my sleeve to get my attention. Silently, she pointed at the kitchen window. I looked out of the class and saw a brown owl sitting on the window's seal. "Mom," I said in a voice that demands people's attention.

She gasped as she caught sight of the owl, which by this time had started to tap on the glass with its beak. "It's holding something," Chelsey pointed out.

Sure enough as soon as I looked I noticed two white envelopes in its talons. Without thinking, I strode forward. My mother said something but I didn't hear her as I pulled the window open. The owl flew in, dropping the envelopes in my hand before landing on the back of a chair. I looked at the writing on both envelopes.

Miss J. Kitchens 

2nd Bedroom on the Left

108 Partridge Trail

Warner Robins, GA 31088

United States of America

Miss C. Kitchens

1st Bedroom on the Left

108 Partridge Trail

Warner Robins, GA 31088

United States of America

I handed Chelsey her letter before I opened the envelope of mine, totally ignoring Mom. My blue eyes widened as I read the envelope's contents.

Dear Miss Kitchens,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Confirmation of receiving letter must be sent as soon as possible. A representative of the school will meet with you as soon as the confirmation letter is received. A list of supplies that you will need before school starts is enclosed. We very much look forward to receiving you as a part of the new generation of Hogwarts' heritage.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titallandos

Professor McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I snatched Chelsey's letter and quickly read its contents. They were identical to my own. "Hey!" Chelsey protested.

"I just wanted to see if yours was the same." They were, down to the enclosed list of supplies.

UNIFORM

First year students will require: 

1.Three sets of plain work robes

2.One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3.One pair of dragon-hide gloves

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

1. "The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)" by Miranda Goshawk

2. "A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi" by Phyllida Spore

3. "A History of Magic" by Bathilda Bagshot

4. "Magical Theory" by Adalbert Waffling

5. "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" by Emeric Switch

6. "Magical Drafts and Potions" by Arsenius Jigger

7. "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" by Newt Seamander

8. "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection" by Quentin Trimble

All students must be equipped with:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

I looked at my sister before handing Mom the letter. "This isn't possible," was the only thing I could say.


	2. Magic Menagerie

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter Two: Magic Menagerie

By Delphine

Jennifer

I suppose Mom got sick of being left out of the loop, for she grabbed the letter from my hand. As she read my letter I watched, as her face grew pale as white alabaster. "Mom," I asked, cautiously, "are you okay?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly before handing me back my letter. "I suppose I have some explaining to do," she said with a small smile. "But first-" She retrieved a piece of paper and a pen and began to write. I could just make out the words.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

The girls and I would be happy to receive such a guest from the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We anxiously a wait.

Sincerely,

Sandy Kitchens

Mom folded the letter and handed it to the waiting owl. With letter in talon the owl took off with a "hoot," out the window and into the sky. With a frown on my face I looked at my mother. "What was that all about?" I asked…no demanded of her.

Chelsey

I looked between my mother and older sister as Mom began to explain. "Honey, I know this may come as a surprise to you but, well, how do I say this…your grandfather, my father, was a wizard which makes you two witches."

Okay, that was really unexpected, NOT. No shit, Sherlock, why else would we have been invited to Hogwarts. This is like a freakin' Harry Potter dream or somethin'. I wanted to open my mouth and tell her all about those thoughts that were running through my head, but Jennifer caught my eye. When Mom wasn't looking, she put her finger to her lips in a shushing position. I frowned a little but obeyed. She'd explain it to me later.

"When you think about it, Mom, its not so surprising that Chelsey and I turned out to be witches," Jennifer said lightly.

True, we've never really been ordinary. Then again being normal is so highly overrated. "Me neither," I said in agreement with my sister.

Mom nodded. "Well then, we just have to wait for our guest.

Jennifer and I didn't get a chance to talk alone until that evening when Mom was cooking dinner. Spaghetti, you know. We went into her room, locking the door behind us. Jennifer turned on some music to hopefully drown out our words. The stereo blared out the Bangles' "Manic Monday."

"I don't think we should talk about the Harry Potter books," Jennifer stated. "It could cause some problems."

I agreed not to for I could see her reasoning. If Hogwarts existed then so did the characters that went to the school. Wouldn't do much to have everyone think us insane. 'Sides maybe I'll see Draco…

****

Jennifer

The representative from Hogwarts didn't arrive for another two days. During that time Chelsey and I grew used to being ten and eleven instead of thirteen and seventeen. My mom told me how her father was a wizard but her mother, her, and her older sister my Aunt Patty were all muggles (Non-magic folk). The power must have skipped a generation.

The doorbell rang while I was reading a story on fanfiction.net. My sister was in her room listening to her O-town CD at a high volume and my mother was taking a nap in her bedroom. (For those of you wondering, my parents are divorced). Making the page window small I got up and headed for the front door, the cats following behind me.

Peaking through the tiny hole in the door I saw an unusual woman with gray hair, dressed in green robes, and wearing a rather unique pointed hat. From the description alone I knew who it was: Professor Minerva McGonagall.

I opened the door immediately. With hawk-like eyes she stared at me in a scrutinizing fashion. I knew she was taking in every little detail about me, from the color of my hair to what clothes I currently was wearing. I had on baggy blue jeans and a blue soccer jersey (Go Spirits! My team rules). A normal eleven-year-old might have felt awkward and down right nervous, I was neither. I stared right back into her eyes with the same intensity. For some reason she was satisfied with my act of fearlessness.

"Jennifer Kitchens, I presume?" she said with a British accent.

I nodded. "If I perhaps could come in. I believe I have some things to discuss with your mother about you and your sister."

I stepped back so she could come in. "I'll go get her," I said, heading to my mom's room. I could feel McGonagall's eyes following me. Ignoring the stare I knocked on Mom's door before opening it slightly.

"Mom?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" came her voice from the darkened room.

"Professor McGonagall's here," I whispered.

That woke her up. "I'll be there in a minute. Meet me in the living room with Chelsey," she told me.

Within five minutes Professor McGonagall and us three Kitchens girls were sitting in the living room. McGonagall cleared her throat. "As I'm sure you've realized by now this situation is quite unusual."-She folded her hands-"Normally, your children would go to the Salem Institute of Magic located here in America buts its our policy that every child who's name appears in our book receives an invitation to Hogwarts. We are prepared to arrange for transport for your two children."

She and my mother continued discuss our future. In the end it was decided that Chelsey and I would go to Hogwarts. A portkey was created from an old flowerpot that we kept out in the garage. It would take us straight to the brick wall courtyard that led to Diagon Alley, which was full of magic stores, which was behind the Leaky Cauldron Pub in London, England. We went there about a week before school started to get our school supplies. Professor McGonagall arranged for us to meet up with someone else from the school for our first visit to Diagon Alley. Mom's coming of course, seeing as how she has all the money.

The portkey took us to a small, walled courtyard. A single trashcan was our connecting portkey. As I adjusted to my new surroundings I realized that two people already occupied the courtyard: a bearded giant and a dark-haired boy in overly large clothes. The giant I had no trouble recognizing as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. The boy with him would be harder to recognize. The unruly dark hair, the taped glasses, the green eyes, and the lightning bolt scar on his forehead left no doubt to who this was: Harry Potter.

"Yeh must be the Kitchens," Hagrid said.

"Yes, Mr.?" Mom inquired.

"Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid, ma'am." He turned to the boy at his side. "Harry, these are two of your classmates and their mother."

"I'm Jennifer," I said, "and this is Chelsey."

Chelsey just stared, unblinking. I inconspicuously stepped on her foot. That snapped her out of her thoughts. "OWW! What did you do that for!"

"You were being rude," I told her.

"Doesn't mean you have to step on my foot," she shot back.

"Girls," Mom said in a warning voice.

We dropped it, no point in getting in trouble over such a little thing. "Now then let's go on shall we?" Hagrid said as he pulled out his pink umbrella. He started counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up…two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The bricks amazingly enough seemed to reorder themselves until a large archway that led to a cobbled street had been revealed. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

I grinned at the same time as the giant; the look on my mother and Harry's faces was just too funny. As soon as we stepped through the archway closed behind us. "Cool," Chelsey breathed and I had to agree with her.

It was on thing to read about it but to see all the things Diagon Alley had to offer with your own eyes was…simply amazing. "First we go to Gringotts Wizard Bank for Harry's money and you'll need to exchange the muggle money you have for wizard currency," Hagrid told my mom.

We passed by many stores on our way until we reached a snowy white building. We passed through burnished bronze doors. Standing beside the doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin that bowed as we walked inside. We faced a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heedOf what awaits the sin of greed,For those who take, but do not earn,Must pay dearly in their turn.So if you seek beneath our floorsA treasure that was never yours,Thief, you have been warned, bewareOf finding more than treasure there.

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid declared. A pair of goblins bowed as we walked through the doors and into a vast marble hall. Goblins worked at stations on each side and others led people in and out of many other doors. We made for a counter. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. Before he said anything else he pointed at the exchange counter. Mom, Chelsey, and I headed there leaving Harry and Hagrid. I wasn't worried after all I knew what was going on.

The exchange didn't take long, explained the currency to Mom did. (She didn't once question how we knew so much.) Seventeen silver Sickles to a gold Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle.

Hagrid and Harry showed back up a few minutes later, Harry was holding a bag full of money. Hagrid pointed out Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions before he slipped off for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. He was muttering about fast carts as he left. Harry looked nervous being left alone with people he didn't know. I smiled at him. "We don't bite, you know."

He blushed as I grabbed his hand. "Come on, we've got lots to buy," I said as I dragged him into the store.

**Chelsey**

Madam Malkin was a squat; smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dears?" she said as we entered. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now in fact."

In the back of the shop was a pale boy with silver blond hair who was being fitted for his robes. I had no trouble recognizing who it was, Draco Malfroy. I headed over to him while Madam Malkin took care of Harry and my sister.

"Hello," he said as I came closer. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," I said, fully aware that Mom, Harry, and my sister were listening to us.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," said Draco. I loved the way his voice sounded with his British accent. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

"Not yet."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"A little"-That is if you count computer and playstation games-"I'm looking forward to trying out for my house team."

"So am I—father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No, but I'm hoping to get into Slytherin."

He smiled at my answer. "I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe," I admitted. What if I didn't get into a house at all?

**Jennifer**

We left Madam Malkin's, of which I was really relieved. Draco Malfroy is such a-a prick! (A.N.: No offense to Draco fans, its not my real opinion!) As we walked Harry talked to Hagrid, probably getting explanations for what he'd heard, but every once in a while he'd look back at me with those lovely green eyes of his. We bought our schoolbooks at a shop called Flourish and Blotts. There the books were stacked to the sky. "Look, Mom, its Jennifer's idea of heaven," cracked Chelsey.

I frowned and gave her a blue-eyed glare. Just because I like to read seven hundred page books on a daily basis doesn't mean she had to make fun of me. Though I suppose Chelsey was right, I did thoroughly enjoy the store. Besides my schoolbooks I talked Mom into buying me some extra books. The first book I got was Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp, I don't think I need to explain that one. The second I got was Hogwarts, A History. I then went ahead and bought the Standard Book of Spells set, grade one through seven, after all it never hurts to be prepared.

"You keep this up," Chelsey told me as I carried my newly purchased books out of the store, "and you'll end up in Ravenclaw."

Harry looked confused. "What's wrong with Ravenclaw?"

"Nothing," I assured him, "It's just that I've been hoping to get into Gryffindor."

"Oh."

We next bought our cauldrons, scales for weighing potion ingredients, and collapsible brass telescopes. After we basic potion ingredients at the Apothecary. Outside, Hagrid checked Harry's list. "Just yer wands left—oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

To my surprise Harry actually went red in the face and began to stutter.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at—an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze." Chelsey and I frowned at this; we both were avid cat lovers. "I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

We left Eeylops Owl Emporium, Harry with a snowy owl he named Hedwig and Mom with a Spotted owl I named Gavin. She thought we could use a family owl, seeing as how he would be trustworthier than using the school's owls. Chelsey and I had decided we would take our cats.

"Just Ollivanders left now—only place for wands," Hagrid stated.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

Dusty thousands of boxes piled up high. "Good afternoon," said Mr. Ollivander. We all gave our hellos. He stared at Harry more intently than at the rest of us.

He talked some to Hagrid and Harry until he finally started business. "Well, now let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which are your wand arms?"

"Er-Well, I'm right-handed," Harry said at the same time Chelsey and I raised our right hands.

He then measured each of us. As he measured he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And of course, you will never get such good result with another wizard's wand."

"Try this one. Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. He handed the wand to me; I didn't even need to wave it to know that it wasn't meant for me. I gave it over to Chelsey for a try. Her body went alert as she grasped the wand. When she waved it around it shot out blue and green sparkles. "Wonderful," Mr. Ollivander shouted, "and her first try too."

He pulled out another wand for Harry and I to try. "Maple and phoenix feathers. Seven inches. Quite whippy." Then, "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches." The piles of wands mounted higher and higher. Amazing enough, he seemed to be happy at this. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feathers, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry raised the wand above his head, brought it down with a stream of red and gold sparks shooting out like fireworks. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar." I could see Harry swallow visibly. "Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great tings from you Mr. Potter….After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."

I think the mention of Voldemort in such a way scared Harry, not that I blame him. In the world of witches and wizards no one said his name preferring to call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, were killed by Voldemort, an attack that should have killed Harry as well. Instead he survived and spent his life with his horrible muggle aunt, uncle, and cousin.

Mr. Ollivander turned his attention back to me. I tried so very many wands without any success. Finally, Mr. Ollivander put his last wand in my hand without even giving me the description.

It's difficult to describe what I felt as I touched that wand. My body felt hot and cold at the same time and oh, so right. The tip shot our white and gold sparks in glittering glory. The wand shop owner looked like he was looking through me. "When I was young and foolish I made a wand meant to be the most powerful ever. This was the result. Funny, in all this time no one but you has gotten so much as a spark out of it." He carefully took the wand from me. "It's made out of a silver maple tree that was once inhabited by a nymph. It is twelve inches long. Its core is very special indeed. Hair of a unicorn, werewolf, and succubus braided together and soaked in phoenix tears. The power of light, dark, and chaos all in one wand."

"Don't yeh think that's a bit much for a young witch?" spoke up Hagrid.

"Only her body is young, Rubeus," he answered as he put my wand, amazing how quickly I had become possessive of it, back into its cushioned box. "Besides this wand and no other has chosen her." Silence reigned.

We all paid for our wands. As we exited the shop I discovered that it was already dusk. Hagrid gave Chelsey and I our tickets for the Hogwarts Express. We left for home by the portkey but not before I slipped Harry my entire American phone number. "If those muggles give you any trouble you just give us a call anytime of the day," I told him. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurried away. Chelsey and Mom could only stare flabbergasted.


	3. Trains, Frogs, and a Talking Cap

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter Three: Trains, Frogs, and a Talking Cap

By Delphine

**Jennifer**

It was finally September first. Chelsey and I stood beside our trunks full of our school things. Our cats each had their own cage. Mom was giving us her good-byes. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" she asked.

"Mom, we'll be fine. If anyone tries to mess with us I'll hex him," I told her, waving my wand around. I wasn't joking either. I'd taken to magic like a fish takes to water. I knew more spells that most fourth years did.

Chelsey and I were wearing black pants, a white blouse, and a sleeveless gray sweater over the blouse and a black tie. We had decided not to put on the black robe that were complete our ensemble until after we got on the train. Chelsey's hair, like normal, was let loose. I on the other hand had put my hair up in a high ponytail with strips of hair on each side of my face. Around my neck and on my finger were my two favorite pieces of jewelry: my necklace that had a silver lightning bolt dangling from the thin chain and my gold replica of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings ring. I had secretly cast two charms on my necklace and one on my ring. The first I placed on my necklace was an invisibility charm that allowed me to go invisible at will as long as I wore it. The other charm was placed on both pieces of jewelry: a locator charm. If one was lost the other could be used to track it.

We used the Portkey to get to the back of the Leaky Cauldron in London England. In the pub was a wizard, I didn't get his name, who apparated or teleported us to King's Cross train station. I got the feeling he didn't approve of apparating children so young. Between Platform nine and ten we crossed what seemed to muggles to be a barrier onto Platform nine and three-quarters. As soon as we boarded the Hogwarts Express we started to search each compartment for an empty one. Finally, we found one with a single occupant, Harry Potter.

"Hi, Harry," I said as I entered and sat next to him. Chelsey moved to sit across from us.

He blushed! I guess he remembered the little kiss I had given him. Before he could say anything the door of the compartment slid open and a young redheaded boy came in. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked pointed at the space next to Chelsey. "Everywhere else is full."

"Unless they're invisible its free," I joked.

The boy sat down after he made sure there really wasn't an invisible person sitting there. "Hey, Ron."

A pair of redheaded twins entered. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron before the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded. "Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really go—you know…" He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. "So that's where You-Know-Who—?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well—I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron.

Chelsey, tired of being ignored, cleared her throat. "I'm Jennifer Kitchens and that's my sister Chelsey," I said before she could say anything rude.

"Hi," he said.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry.

"Er—yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

Harry turned to me. "What about you? Are all your family muggles?"

"Um, our grandfather was a wizard on Mom's side but I don't know if anyone else is," I answered.

"You're not from England are you?" Ron asked me.

"We're from America," Chelsey spoke up.

"Must be neat having two wizard brothers," I said. "Our older half-brothers are both pain in the butt muggles."

"Five," said Ron. He looked gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a rat gray rat, which was asleep. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

"I used to have to wear Jennifer's hand me downs," Chelsey said, "but that was before she started to get holes in her clothes from falling down all the time."

"As I recall you were as much a klutz as I was," I said, angrily.

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was not, was not."

"Were too, times infinity."

"Oh!" she growled, slumping in her seat.

We left it at that. After staring out the window for a few minutes I pulled out my school books _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore, a small piece of paper, and an erasable ink pen. I had decided that my handwriting was messy enough without the blots and blobs using a quill and ink would cause. I started writing.

An hour later I handed Harry the piece of paper which had written on it:

Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant known as aconite.

"What's this for?" Harry asked me.

"For Potions Class," I told him, matter-of-factly. "I suggest you memorize it."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances. "Just trust me," I said.

Harry smiled a little and nodded. "Alright," he said, folding the note and putting it in a pocket.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back our door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry leapt to his feet while Ron muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Chelsey and I followed Harry. The selection of candies was as follow Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and Licorice Wands. Harry bought some of everything, Chelsey got some Cauldron Cakes and Licorice Wands, and I bought a bunch of Chocolate Frogs.

Ron stared a Harry and his load as we went back into the compartment. "Hungry are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a Pumpkin Pasty. Ron took out his lumpy package of sandwiches and unwrapped it. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forget I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on-"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with the five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry.

Soon we were all eating our sweets (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know—Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. "So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry as he looked at the card.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa—thanks—"

Harry turned the card around to read the back and when he flipped it back over his eyes widened in astonishment. "He's gone!"  
"Well, you can't expect hi to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her…do you want it? You can start collecting." His eyes strayed the unwrapped pile of Chocolate Frogs.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Chelsey and I finally started to dig into our piles of sweets. My first two cards just happened to be Agrippa and Ptolemy whom I traded to a thrilled Ron for Roderick Plumpton and Salazar Slytherin. I also got Godric Gryffindor, Cassandra Vablatsky, Celestina Warbeck, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Moris Dippet, Elfric the Eager, Miranda Goshawk, and Vivian the Lady of the Lake.

Harry tore his eyes from his cards to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger—flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into the corner. "Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts."

"And that's precisely why I didn't get any," I told them.

"Yeah, with her luck," Chelsey spoke up, "she'd have ended up with a pooh flavored one."

I shuddered at that image and gave her a frown. "Could you be any more graphic?"

Any reply she would have made was lost as a round-faced boy came in. He looked tearful. "Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When we shook our heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy, who I now recognized as Neville Longbottom, miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't really talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a battered-looking wand. He had just raised the wand when the compartment door slid open again. Neville was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Her bossy sort of voice, bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth identified her as non other than Hermione Granger.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but Hermione wasn't listening. Instead, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then."

She sat down in between Harry and me. "Er—all right." He cleared his throat.

"_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" She asked after nothing happened.

"Of course it's not," I interrupted her before she could start lecturing. "Haven't you read the course books, yet?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, then you should be able to tell the difference between a real spell and a fake one. For example"-I pulled out my wand and pointed it at Harry's black framed glasses that were held together by tape. Harry's pretty green eyes crossed as they stared at my wand and his breath stilled- "_Reparo_."

With the spell's incantation the tape holding Harry's glasses together disappeared and his glasses were left fixed and looking like new. Harry took off his glasses and stared at them before placing them back on. He glanced at Ron who ended up shrugging.

Feeling chastised, the girl said, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Jennifer Kitchens."

"Chelsey Kitchens."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry, dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You had better get changed, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left taking Neville with her. Chelsey and I left to put on our robes and allow the boys to change as well. After we were in our black robes the four of us began to discuss Quidditch and Ron and I explained the rules to Harry.

The compartment door slid open yet again, only this time three boys entered. The one in the middle I recognized as Draco Malfoy. "Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the thickset boys on each side of Draco like some kind of bodyguards or jailers.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

It's a very good thing Chelsey was wise enough to cover up Ron's snigger by saying to Draco, "So we meet again."

He looked at my little sister with his pale eyes. If I didn't know better I would say he blushed. "I remember. At the robe shop, right?"

She nodded. "I'm Chelsey by the way and this is my sister Jennifer."

His face had gone almost totally red at this time. Draco stuttered and took off with a confused Crabbe and Goyle hot on his tail. After they left I gave my sister an amused glance before Ron decided to comment on our last guest.

"I've heard of his family," Ron said, darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

Silenced reigned for a time before a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slowed down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and I heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me—anymore firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

We followed him down a path that opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop the mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrents and towers. "No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron, Chelsey, and I got into one boat. Neville, Hermione occupied the one next to ours, and two other boys that I had a good suspicion were Dean Thomas, a Black boy, and Seamus Finnigan, a sandy-haired boy. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

The fleet of little ships took us through an opening in the cliffs face until we reached some kind of underground harbor. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. We clambered up a passageway in the rock and came out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. I was glad I was wearing boots instead of my normal tennis shoes, other wise my shoes, socks, and feet would have all been totally soaked.

We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once and McGonagall stood there.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit my whole house in it and that's saying something. We followed McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the familiar drone of voices of a huge crowd from the doorway to the right but McGonagall showed us first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously. Even I, who knew what was to come, could not help but feel the flittering of butterflies in my stomach.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, you triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking and you will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her gaze lingered on Neville and Ron. To me she gave a polite nod of acknowledgement. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Chelsey and I once again exchanged smiles. My grin stayed on my face until several people screamed. I gasped along with others as about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at us. They seemed to be arguing. A fat friar was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we out to give him a chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed us first years. "We're waiting to be sorted," I answered for everyone. No one else had the courage to speak.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Fan Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. "Now, form a line," she told us, "and follow me."

We walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. It was simply fantastic. It was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. McGonagall led us up there, so that we came to a halt in line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. The velvety black ceiling was dotted with stars. Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

McGonagall silently, placed a four-legged stool in front of us. On top of the stool she put a wizard's hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. I stared at the hat as it twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave of heart,

Their daring nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil,

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind,

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends."

The whole hall burst into applause. "So we've got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

McGonagall started to call off names. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst became Ravenclaws. Lavender Brown was the first new Gryffindor. Millicent Bulstrode became a Slytherin. Justin Finch-Fletchley became a Hufflepuff. Seamus Finnigan and Hermione Granger became Gryffindors. Then, "Kitchens, Chelsey."

**Chelsey**

My heart caught in my throat as I heard my name called. In short steps I reached the stool and sat. The hat was dropped over my head. "Hmm," said a small voice in my ear. "Where shall I put you?"

_Slytherin_, I thought with all my might. _Slytherin_.

"Slytherin eh?" said the small voice. "Not many good hearted people actually volunteer for that house. But if you're sure—better be SLYTHERIN!"

With a smile on my face I took off the hat, handing it to McGonagall, and headed to my house table.

**Jennifer**

Was I surprised that Chelsey was put in Slytherin? No. She had made it very clear to me that was the house she wished to be in and I was cool with that. Maybe she'll give that house of hers a conscious of some kind.

"Kitchens, Jennifer," McGonagall called my name. With false confidence I sat on the stool. Even before the hat was put on my head I began thinking Gryffindor.

"SLYTH-" the hat began to call out until it heard my silent chant. "Are you sure?" was whispered in my ear. "You have great ambition and Slytherin would help you on your way. Don't you want to be with your sister? I ask you again, are you sure?"

Was I sure? Yes. Harry and the others needed me. Despite how I normally treated my sister she was perfectly capable of handling herself and she would be very sore to have to put up with me 24-7. Wouldn't want to drive the gap between us even wider. "Alright then, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

My new house clapped as I walked over to our table. But I was aware that people were whispering about how the Sorting Hat had NEVER changed it's mind. So how did I?


	4. Meeting Peeves

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter Four: Meeting Peeves

By Delphine

****

Chelsey

I, of course, had already known that Draco would be put into the same house as me but it was still a relief when I heard the Sorting Hat call out, "SLYTHERIN!"

He swaggered over to our table, looking extremely pleased with himself. I could no help but stare at the hypnotic movements of his walk. "You're being very conspicuous, dear," a soft, cold voice whispered at me.

I suppressed a shudder as I turned to look at the one who had whispered at me. It was the Slytherin House Ghost, the Bloody Baron, who was leaning across the chair that separated us. His eyes were blank, black sockets but even so I could feel that he was staring at me. I caught myself staring at the silvery bloodstains on his robes. He must have died a pretty gruesome death.

My attention was taken off the angst filled ghost as Draco sat down. He took the seat between the Bloody Baron and I, much to my relief. "Hello," he said, all traces of the nervousness he felt before on the train were lost.

"You're in my seat," said a bossy girl's voice.

Wearing as much make-up as a slut from Hell, Pansy Parkinson stood behind me with her hands on her hips and her right foot tapping the marble floor. "Sorry, no saved seats. I got here first," I sneered at her.

Her face went red with fury, making her look like some sunburned beach bimbo. "You-you mudblood!" she hissed at me. All people at the Slytherin table with in hearing range ceased talking. Draco was glaring daggers at Pansy and for some reason even the Bloody Baron seemed hostile to her. Pansy cringed but she didn't back down.

To respond I used a Jennifer type come back. You see, my sister uses knowledge and facts to put someone down in a way that's hard to dispute. "You're mistaken," I told her. "Mudblood is a trashy term for one of no wizardry descent. Since I do have such a descent the term does not apply."

Pansy opened her mouth but no sound came out as she struggled for a reply. When she could not think of anything she shut her mouth and flushed. Pansy marched away taking a seat farther down the table.

"Nice to see someone get the better of Pansy," Draco told me. "She doesn't live far down from me and she's my mother's faithful worshiper. I bet she's hoping to be the next Mrs. Malfoy."

"You know, if you got a girlfriend maybe she'd stop bugging you," I pointed out.

He raised a delicate silver eyebrow. "You volunteering?" he teased.

I blushed. "Maybe."

He gave a laugh that sent tingles through my body from the melodious sound. "Oh, you are forward." His eyes twinkled. "All right then,"-Draco took off a small gold ring that was inscripted with his name from his finger and put it on mine-"you'll be my girlfriend until such a time that neither us wish to call it off."

I agreed and would have said more but McGonagall all had called out a name that quieted the entire hall. "Potter, Harry."

Jennifer

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

I had to suppress a smile as the whispering started. I sat by Hermione Granger who was reciting _Hogwarts, A History_ to Neville Longbottom. Poor Neville, I doubted he understood a word she said. As the Sorting Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" our table erupted into applause.

"We got Potter!"

"We got Potter!"

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes at their antics, the Weasley twins especially. Fred and George were standing up and letting out great whoops. You'd have thought they had just won the damn lottery with the ruckus they were making.

Harry walked over to our table and sat down next to me. He had a puzzled look on his face. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

"The Sorting Hat was complaining to me about taking too many requests and seers who should learn not to interfere so much," he told me.

Well, Chelsey and I both had requested our houses as had Harry and Hermione so that might have annoyed the hat. But the thing about a seer, I wasn't so sure. Could in have meant Chelsey and I?

Ron Weasley was made a Gryffindor. "Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley across from me as Ron sat down by Harry.

Finally, the names all called, McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, beaming at the students, he opened his arms. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. I merely raised my eyebrows. "Is he—a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard I the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open as he finally noticed the dishes on the table were filled with food. I put a piece of steak and two baked potatoes on my plate. "That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff we had encountered earlier, sadly.

"Can't you—?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would PREFER you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"NEARLY Headless? How can you be NEARLY headless?"

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled, his whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him and not done it properly. Nick flipped his head back onto his neck and said, "So—new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the house cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable—he's the Slytherin ghost."

When everyone had eaten, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. I helped myself to a bowl of chocolate chip mint ice cream. The table's conversation turned to our families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others and I laughed. "Guess that'd make me a quarter of a witch and three quarters Muggle," I said. "My grandpa was a wizard but grandma and my parents were all Muggles. You can imagine the surprise it caused when both my sister and I turned out to be witches."

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me—he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned—but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced—all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

I started to nod my head but ended up clutching it as a sharp pain went through it. "What's wrong?" Harry asked me.

"Brain freeze," I muttered. "Ate my ice cream too fast."

"Oh."

The conversations continued for a while. Eventually Harry started to rub is forehead and hiss in pain, which immediately worried me. "Are you okay? It's not brain freeze because I know you didn't have any ice cream," I said.

"My scar burned for a second," he whispered to me.

And so it begins. My quest that is. I've made it my personal goal to help Harry as much as possible and try to spare him unnecessary pain.

Harry looked at a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin with discomfort. Looked at the teacher next to the other, the one in the absurd turban, Professor Quirrell. I narrowed my blue eyes at him.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to—everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows and awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again which caused the hall to fall silent. "Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He looked pointedly at the Weasley twins. 

"I have been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch.

And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.

"Must be. It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere—the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

He gave his wand a flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake like, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do you best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

I sang in the same style of Whitney Houston. Soft, yet loud, I stretched out the song until I was the last one singing. The Weasley twins were the second to last to finish, singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted the last few lines with his wand and when I had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. The Weasley twins gave me smiles of acknowledgement.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Us Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. I noticed that the portraits along the corridors had people moving upon the canvases. We were led through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, until we suddenly came to a halt.

A bundle of walking sticks were floating in midair ahead of us, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. "Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves—show yourself."

A sound similar to a fart, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at us. I dodged to the side, pulling out my wand, as the others ducked. "_Windarius_!" I shouted, swishing my wand at Peeves. A giant gust of wind came out of my wand, hitting Peeves. He was forced down the corridor, rattling coats of armor as he passed and swearing like a sailor.

"Not bad," Percy said, as we set off again. "Though you may regret standing up to him. He'll pick you out to tease on now. The Bloody Baron's the only one who can really control him; he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman n a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We all scrambled through it—Neville needed a leg up—and found ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy arm chairs.

Percy directed us girls to our dormitory. I said good-bye to Harry and Ron before heading to my room. The room I ended up in was small compared to the rest of the girl's rooms. The others held five four-posters beds hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Mine only held two beds. I ended up rooming with Hermione, which was okay. Once you got past her know-it-all routine, she was actually quite a pleasant person.

Our trunks had already been brought up as well as Astrid. I let my cat out of her cage, much to her relief. Astrid almost immediately jumped on the bed I had chosen and fell asleep at the foot of the bed. As soon as I changed into my nightgown I wasn't far behind her.

Chelsey

By the time the banquet was finished I was dead on my feet. Our prefect, a fifth year girl with dark hair by the name of Nyxa Tridel, led us to the Slytherin house dormitory. Draco held my hand the entire time, for which I was grateful for, otherwise I would have gotten lost!

"There is no way I'm going to be able to find my way around," I muttered.

"Oh, poor baby!" Pansy sneered.

"Enough, Pansy, or you'll regret it," Draco warned. His ever-present shadows, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles to empathize his point.

She shut up.

We were led down into the dungeon until we came to a dead end. "King Cobra," Nyxa mummered.

A doorway opened from the brick wall. As we all passed through the wall closed in behind us. Not surprising, the Slytherin common room was decorated in green and silver. It didn't' really have much of a homey look with all the stiff, high back chairs and the eerie glowing green lamps.

Nyxa directed us to our rooms. I ended up sharing a room with the LOVELY (snort) Millicent Bulstrode and two others I hadn't known until now, Lydia Zabini and Shiva Carser. I think the only thing comfortable were the beds, my Luna was already asleep on mine. Thoughts of Draco and even worries of Pansy faded away as I slipped into the arms of Morpheus.


	5. Getting into the Groove of Things

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter Five: Getting into the Groove of Things

By Delphine

Jennifer

The classes I had to take were nothing compared to actually finding your way around the castle. There were, much to my chagrin, a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts. I was extremely grateful that in the book _Hogwarts, A History_ was included a basic map of the castle. What with the people in the portraits constantly going to visit each other and the walking coats of armor it was hard to get around.

The ghosts didn't' help much either, what with them walking through walls or gliding suddenly through a door you were trying to open. And Peeves the Poltergeist was an extreme pain in the ass, especially if you were late. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the name of different stars and the movements of the planets. This was probably the easiest for me for I had taken a year of Astronomy back in my old life, as I called it. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout. There we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. I had to push myself extra hard in this class for I unfortunately have a black thumb when it comes to plants.

I suppose the most sleepable class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. I actually enjoyed the class for I had always had a fascination when it came to history. I scored lots of brownie points for actually asking questions in his class.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Much to my amusement on the first day of charms he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of site.

Professor McGonagall gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her class. It wasn't hard to understand why transfiguration became one of my favorite classes. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and told to turn it into a needle. By the end on class the only ones to make any difference in our matches were Hermione Granger and I. Hers had gone all silver and pointy. Mine was fully transfigured, from the silver body to the point to the little eye. I had my extra practice before school started to thank for that. McGonagall gave both of us a rare smile and five points each to Gryffindor.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be a joke. Quirrell's classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to word off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but we weren't sure we believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pick and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected where ever he went. Only Chelsey and I knew what was under that turban.

Double Potions with Slytherin turned out to be rather amusing.

Chelsey

Potion lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was creepy enough even if it was without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape started his class by taking the roll call, but paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

The Slytherins, all except me that is, sniggered behind their hands. Draco, sat next to me, stopped when he saw the seriousness on my face. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke barely more than a whisper but it was enough to keep the class silent. "As there is little foolish wand-wavering here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Draco and I exchanged smiles. My sister, who was sitting between Harry and Hermione, looked bored. Hermione looked desperate to probe herself. Harry and Ron had raised their eyebrows.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Draught of Living Death," Harry answered automatically.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Fine. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat."

Snape looked even madder. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant known as aconite."

"Three points to Gryffindor," he snapped, clearly not happy that Harry had been able to answer all his questions.

I could see that Jennifer had a twinkle of amusement in her blue eyes and something else… mischievousness. Just what was she planning?

Jennifer

As the potion lessons continued we were paired up into partners. Ron was partnered up with Hermione, Chelsey with Draco (surprise), and I with Harry. I made sure that Harry and I were far, far away from Neville who was partnered up with Seamus.

We set to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh-dried nettles and crush snake fangs. He was just complimenting (grudgingly) Harry and my potion when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. I was one of the first to stand on their stools, followed within seconds by the whole class while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on the rest of the class. "You had best take to heart what the consequences can be for no following instructions exactly."

An hour later we, Harry, Ron, and I, trudged through the front hall, headed to Hagrid's hut. "Cheer up," said Ron. "We actually managed to get some points from Snape and he's always taking points off Fred and George."

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house of the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked I could hear a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang—back."

He let us in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

'Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at me.

Giving a little, "Eeep," I hid behind Ron who got his ears licked instead of me. Don't get me wrong, dogs are okay, but I'm more of a cat person. Besides, is I went back to my room smelling of dog Astrid would have a hissy fit, pun intended.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

I had to roll my eyes at some of the Weasley twin pranks that had been pulled on Hagrid that he told us about. "Do your brothers have a death wish or something?" I asked Ron.

The redhead shrugged. "They've always been that way, drives Mom bonkers.'

All three of us shared our first day experiences with Hagrid. We were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her—Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. "He seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

"You know," I said, "Snape could be one of those teachers who just hate everyone. Had on like him back in my muggle school, never could figure out why someone who hates kids would go into teaching in the first place."

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron, changing the subject. "I liked him a lot—great with animals."

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy.

It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet, which I read over Harry's shoulder.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at

Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the

work of Dark wizards or witches.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing

had been taken. The vault that was searched had in

fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so

keep your noses out if you know what's good

for you," said a Gringotts spokes goblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid refused to meet Harry's green eyes and said nothing.

That night I wrote my ten-inch essay of Uric the Oddball for History of Magic. My essay included some facts of his known pet and challenges that I had gathered from a collection of books I checked out of the Hogwarts library (my favorite place!)

"Uric the Oddball is known to have slept in a room containing no fewer than fifty pet Augureys. During one particularly wet winter, Uric became convinced by the moaning of his Augureys that he had died and was now a ghost. His subsequent attempts to walk through the walls of his house resulted in what his biographer Radolphus Pittiman describes as a 'concussion of ten days' duration."

"Uric the Oddball attempted at one time to prove that the Fwooper song was actually beneficial to the health and listened to it for three months on end without a break. Unfortunately the Wizard's Council to which he reported his findings were unconvinced, as he had arrived at the meeting wearing nothing but a toupee that on closer inspection proved to be a dead badger."

To say the least my dreams that night were a little…odd.


	6. Of Brooms and Duels

Harry Potter and the American Sisters

Chapter Six: Of Brooms and Duels

By Delphine

****

Jennifer

As I got to know the real Harry Potter over the first couple of days a plan started to form in my mind. I think it was inspired by Harry's plight. The books had described the barest of the abuses he was forced to endure from the Dursleys. Even now, just some of his latest bruises have faded to a sickly yellow. I think that only six Gryffindors out of the whole school noticed the bruises he so effortlessly hid. The first was of course me, four were Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville who shared a dormitory with him, and the last person was Hermione. Most of the school thought that she was oblivious to things around her due to having her nose always stuck in a book. I knew better. Hermione Granger was more observant than the average witch.

My goal for the end of the year was to get Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, free from Azkaban and excused of all charges. You might be wondering how I planned such a thing; well you'll just have to see. My first faze of the plan I can tell you: befriend Snape. Yes, you read right. I am going to befriend the most hated teacher of Hogwarts, Potions Master Severus Snape. How the hell I'm going to accomplish such a thing though I have no clue. But as they say, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

It was a day or so after the first potions class that I got up the courage to go see Snape. The homework he assigned, which was completed easily enough, would serve as a good excuse to see him. His class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years had just let out. The Hufflepuffs were obviously shaken by their encounter with the Potions Master. I gave an encouraging smile to Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones as I past them, heading into the classroom.

Snape was busy using his wand to clean up a spilled bubbling potion that most likely had been knocked over by a nervous Hufflepuff. Though I walked quietly enough, Snape somehow heard the gentle footfalls of my white Reebok shoes for he quickly noticed me. "My, what would a young Gryffindor such as yourself be doing down here?" he sneered.

Suddenly, my homework excuse seemed stupid and I just knew he would see through me. Luckily, a question fell upon my lips without thinking before Snape could get really annoyed. "I was wondering, sir, how my sister is doing?"

"Your sister?" he asked, not as meanly.

I nodded. "Chelsey Kitchens. She's in Slytherin and since you're head of her house I thought you might know. I worry about her, she's a bit gullible and I don't want her to be taken advantage of."

"Last I heard," he drawled, "she had hooked herself up with young mister Malfoy."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Figures. She would put herself with the bad crowd."-Another sigh-"Thank you for your time." I did an about face and started to walk out of the potions classroom before Snape's voice brought me to a halt.

"Despite the way Draco acts, he would never intentionally hurt your sister. I've seen the way he looks at her," he told me.

I turned my head to look over my shoulder at the Potions Master, my blue eyes softening. "Thank you," I told him before finally leaving the room.

As I walked back to the Gryffindor tower I could barely contain my surprise. I had just had a pleasant conversation with Snape! Oh, what a fit Ron would have if I told him!

Considering the animosity held between the Slytherins and Gryffindors you can imagine the groans and wines that came as we spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday—and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself in on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

I shook my head. "If anybody is going to make a fool out of themselves it is going to be me. I can't even get on the back of a horse without my acrophobia kicking in."

Ron tilted his head to the side. "What is acrophobia? A curse?"

I smiled, grimly. "Practically. Acrophobia means an intense fear of heights. So you can imagine how well I'm going to fare on a broomstick."

Harry and I sighed together.

****

Chelsey

I hate Pansy Parkinson with every ounce of my emotional being. She's just horrible! Every chance she gets she's mean to me. She has turned almost all of the first-year Slytherin girls against me. Millicent is the only one still friendly to me but I suspect its because she's Goyle's girlfriend and knows I'm Draco's. Except for Pansy non-of the others will outright torture me for fear of Draco's retribution.

A second-year by the name of Ruby Wick has taken pity on me and become my friend. Her entire family is made up of Hufflepuffs so she has a bit of an idea of what it feels like to be an outcast. Despite Draco and Ruby's efforts, I find myself missing my old school and friends. I even miss my sister. Though we both got to Hogwarts I find that I do not often see her.

****

Jennifer

Breakfast on Thursday was an odd conflict of emotions. Some, like me, found themselves afraid and nervous of the upcoming flying lessons. And others, like Seamus Finnigan, would boast loudly of their skills on the broomstick.

Hermione bored most of the Gryffindor table stupid with flying tips she had gotten out of Quidditch Through the Ages. I, having read the book, knew that though the tips were good would no help as much as actual practice would.

Mail came at the same time as usual. Neither Harry nor I got any letters but that didn't bother me. My mom is usually too busy to write a letter everyday and Harry's Aunt and Uncle would never even consider the possibility.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"That's a Remembrall isn't it?" I asked.

"I've read about those," Hermione put in. "If the smoke turns red it means you've forgotten something."

"The only problem," Neville explained as the smoke in the glass ball turned scarlet, "is that I can't remember what I've forgotten."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Ron and Harry tried to jump to their feet but I had grabbed both their robes and pulled them back down. "I'll handle this," I told them firmly.

Standing up, I gave a glance at Chelsey, who was behind Draco before giving the ferret boy himself the Heero Yuy patented Death Glare. As he returned my look he didn't notice until it was too late when my hands flashed out and grabbed the Remembrall from his grip. As I handed it back to Neville I said to Draco, "Didn't your parents teach you not to take something that doesn't belong to you?"

He sneered and stomped off with Chelsey close behind. "Oh, and Malfoy"-he paused-"If you ever hurt my sister I'll rip out your heart and feed it to my cat."

A hush fell over the Gryffindor table, they obviously expected some kind of retaliation but all he did was give me a nod before going off.

"I can't believe you said that!" Chelsey told me before she took off after Draco.

I then went back to eating my breakfast. The feeling of staring eyes did not go away. In frustration, I put down my fork and raised my head. I once again gave the Heero Yuy Death Glare. "What?" I asked, irritably.

"What you said to Malfoy was just-" started Fred Weasley.

"Wicked," finished George.

I raised my eyebrows. "I really didn't think it was that big of a deal. You would have done the same thing if it was Ginny," I said, naming their ten-year-old sister.

"I suppose," admitted the Weasley twins.

"Well, I certainly would not have been so crudely descriptive," said Percy, stiffly.

"Yes, but you'd have been more scary," cracked Ron.

Insulted, Percy stalked off. As soon as he was out of earshot they all cracked up into laughter. "D-did you see the look on his face?" chuckled George.

At three-thirty that afternoon, we Gryffindor first-years hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived almost right after we did. She had short, gray hair and cool looking yellow eyes. She reminded me of a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

All the brooms were old but I have to admit I think mine was probably the most preserved out of the batch. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" we all shouted.

My heart gave a big leap as my appointed broomstick did. Without thinking, I closed my hand around the broom that had jumped into my waiting hand. Mine was on of the few to do what it was suppose to. Harry's had jumped into his hand but Hermione's had simply rolled over onto the ground. Ron's had leapt up passed the waiting hand and smacked him squared on the nose. Harry, who was next to him, burst out laughing. "Shut up, Harry," Ron snapped, clutching his nose.

Next, Madam Hooch showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end. She walked up and down the rows correcting us. To my amusement, Madam Hooch spent at least ten minutes correcting Chelsey's broom position "This is no muggle story," she told my sister. "If you aren't sitting on properly you could fall off and hurt yourself."

Oh, yeah, that went over real well with us. Neville had already looked an unhealthy pale white but now he looked like he was holding onto consciousness with a thin thread.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up. About twenty feet up he gave a gasp as his grip loosened and he slipped sideways off the broom.

My feet were in movement before I was even aware of what I was doing. The next thing I knew I was knocked to the ground by the falling Neville. AS the full weight of him came down upon me I found the air in my lungs was forced out.

An instant after the fall, Madam Hooch was by our side, pulling Neville off me. He whimpered as her hand closed around his wrist. From my position of the ground, I could see her lips purse into a frown. "Broken wrist, she muttered. She glanced at me. "How about you? Any injuries?"

"Nah, I'm just peachy," I said as I got to my feet, still trying to recover my breath.

She nodded and turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in, even Chelsey to my surprise.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. "Maybe if he had given this a squeeze, he would have remembered to fall on his fat ass."

I turned my eyes to Chelsey, begging her to do something before it got out of hand. She just shrugged. I sighed. "Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.

Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom. "No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her and kicked off into the air. I can't explain what came over me but the next thing I know I'm up in the air after Harry. We stopped in midair, facing a stunned Malfoy. "Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

"Just give it to them, Draco," pleaded Chelsey from the ground.

I heard Pansy start to cuss her out for being a wimp. I made a mental note to have a "talk" with the slut of a Slytherin. This whole incident was starting to get on my nerves.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry and I both put our brooms into dives, after the falling ball. Harry caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his hands. Seeing that I would not catch the glass ball I had slowed my broom down and straightened it so that I made a dignified landing.

"HARRY POTTER, JENNIFER KITCHENS!"

Professor McGonagall was running towards us and man did she look pissed off. "Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—" McGonagall was almost speechless with shock and her glasses flashed furiously, "—how dare you—might have broken your necks—"

"It wasn't their fault, Professor—"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil—"

"But Malfoy—"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Kitchens, follow me, now."

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside we walked and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry and I trotting behind her. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

A blurry fifth-year boy came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you three," said McGonagall, and we marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry and I.

"In here." Professor McGonagall pointed us into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the three of us.

"Potter, Kitchens, this is Oliver Wood. Wood—I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive. Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it. And this girl was able was keep up with him almost the entire time. I think she would make an excellent back up for Seeker and Chaser."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. "A back up Seeker would be nice but not a Chaser, we have plenty of those. From what you tell me she'd be best as one of my main Chasers, there's a position open and none of the other back ups want it full time." He frowned slightly. "Alicia Spinnet was going to take it but then decided to quit the team all together, something about paying more attention to her studies."

By this time, Harry had quite a confused expression on his face. "Wood is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," McGonagall explained.

"We'll have to get both of them decent brooms, Professor—a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say," Wood continued as if McGonagall hadn't said a word.

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match against Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…"

She peered sternly at us. "I want to hear you're training hard, or I may change my mind about punishing you two." She then smiled. "Your father would have been proud, Potter," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

She looked at me. "The reason I was out there was to take you to Professor Dumbledore, Miss Kitchens, he wishes a word with you." And then she left.

I said good-bye to Harry and Wood before following McGonagall.

We finally stopped our walking in front of a stature of an ugly gargoyle. "Nerds," said McGonagall stiffly.

The gargoyle's eyes blinked and it leapt back. The Transfiguration teacher led me into Professor Dumbledore's office. He was sitting behind his desk, his half-moon spectacles dancing in the candlelight. Someone was sitting in the chair facing the desk, but because of the position I could not see who it was.

"Jennifer Kitchens, Professor Dumbledore," spoke McGonagall.

"Ah, yes, Miss Kitchens," said Dumbledore, "I suppose you are wondering why I've asked you here?"

"The though had crossed my mind."

Dumbledore smiled at my answer. "We've had a first-year late arrival. He requested you as a guide."  
"He?" I wondered. Was it someone I knew?

The person in the chair stood up and turned to face me. It was a boy about my physical age with long, curly dark hair swept back into a ponytail and dark brown eyes framed with silver glasses.

I knew him. Even as this younger version I recognized him. Jacob Segovia, my best friend.

"B-but how?" I stuttered.

He closed his eyes so the lids became upside down Us and an evil grin fell upon the happy visage. "That is a secret," Jacob told me, waving his finger around.

I had to resist my reflex to kick him in the shin like usual when he acted annoying. It would not do to seem impulsively violent in front of the Head and Deputy Head of my school.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "Now that that's settled, of you go." He ushered us out of his office.

I looked awkwardly at Jacob as the gargoyle statue sprang closed behind us. "So, what house are you in?" I asked.

"Gryffindor, of course, why else would you have been made my guide," came the sarcastic reply.

I raised my eyebrows. "How the hell did you get sorted into Gryffindor, I would have pegged you for a Slytherin."

He gave me an, oh, so familiar smirk. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not evil incarnate. And the Sorting Hat can read minds." –He puffed his chest out- "It must have seen how incredibly brave I am."

I rolled my eyes. "You mean how incredibly stupid."

"Hey!" Jacob protested.

Now it was my turn to give an evil smirk.

****

Chelsey

"I bet that git is already on the train," Draco declared. "Poor potty Potter."

The other Slytherins laughed. I said nothing. There was no way in hell I was going to tell Draco that he had actually just helped his rival. Oh, well. He'll find out on his own eventually. I'll just let him have his fun for now. No sense in getting him mad at me.

****

Jennifer

"You're joking.

It was dinnertime and I had already introduced Jacob to Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors. Harry and I had just finished telling Ron what had happened when we'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. "Seeker? Chaser? But first years never—you must be the youngest house players in about—"

"A century," said Harry, shoving pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

"Well, Harry is," I supplied, "but I'm around the same age as most of the second years."

"We start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted us, and hurried over. "Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too—Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You both must be good, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passage way out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: flanked by Crabbe and Goyle with Chelsey brining up the rear.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?"

"We're both staying here, asshole," I snapped at him.

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles threateningly but could do no more with the High Table full of teachers. Chelsey glare me a glare of her own. I didn't care. There is only so much verbal abuse I'm willing to put up with.

Her blue eyed gaze fell on Jacob. "You," she hissed, "Who the hell let you in, monkey boy?"

Jacob ignored her favorite insulting name for him. "The same people that let you in here, buckteeth."

She turned red from fury at his insult. Whether Chelsey admitted it or not it was partially true, only her front teeth weren't as large as say Hermione's. "I suggest you shut up," Draco growled. Awe, how cute! He's defending his girlfriend. I think I'm going to be sick.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly to Malfoy.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only—no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizards duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at his companions, sizing them up. "Chelsey," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, we looked at each other.

"What is a Wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him in the nose," Ron suggested.

"Kick him," I put in.

"Put him in a headlock and bodyslam him to the ground," said Jacob, getting into it.

We looked at him. "What?" he asked. "It works in wrestling."

I shook my head. "Only you, Jacob."

"Excuse me."

We looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying—"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"—and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of all the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

There was no need for Jacob or I to add anything.


End file.
